


Debug

by cesau



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 11:08:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10410813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cesau/pseuds/cesau
Summary: With the help of Yune, Ashera is made aware of a rather serious flaw in her children's design, and she endeavors to fix it. The Branded and their parents are restored to their power; some accept this more readily than others.





	

At the end, standing in the great, open chamber where this generation's heroes had defeated their own maddened goddess, there was silence. Sephiran stood in silence, as entranced as the others at the return of Tellius's mother goddesses. He alone had seen them before this moment, yet it did nothing to shield him from their radiance, and he watched in amazement as they interacted for the first time in nearly a millennium.

Where Ashera had fallen at the central dais, Yune approached in her astral form. She stood before her fallen other half, and their eyes met, some unspoken truce passing between them. When had he last seen the two halves of Ashunera meet on even ground? Sephiran wondered, and he truly couldn't recall. Neither was at her full power now, and that perhaps was the saving grace that allowed this moment to happen at all.

“Can we become ourself again?” Yune asked. The little god tilted her head, a show of birdlike curiosity.

“Not yet,” Ashera answered, voice low and decisive, soothing but absent any of her counterpart's bright energy. “In time, but not yet. We shall sleep now, and allow our souls to heal. When we have healed, we shall join together once more. Now, Yune, it is time for us to depart.”

Yune hummed contentedly and raised her hands. Ashera met the touch with her own and smiled fondly, and that might have been the end of an era but for Yune's startled exclamation. “Oh! But first, there is something we must fix!” 

She pulled her hands away and held them to her face in an disturbingly earthly expression of surprise. For the first time, Sephiran began to wonder if some deeper change had begun within the goddess who had spent so much time cradled to the hearts of mortals.

Yune ran from Ashera's side at the dais to one of the champions at its outer edges. She tugged at Micaiah's wrist, pulled her stumbling forward with a triumphant grin. “See here, Ashera, another life we couldn't foresee!”

Micaiah stood there speechless before Ashera, face gone slack in surprise. Her constant companion the thief made a strangled noise behind her, poised in such a way he might intervene at a moment's notice. It was a foolishly brave action, and certainly not necessary at this point, Sephiran mused, but also unsurprising from one who had joined this foolhardy group of heroes. 

The elder goddess looked at the woman before her strangely, then intoned with an odd, flat inflection, “This child was your vessel, was she not, Yune?”

“But more than that, Ashera.”

After another pause, and a look of consideration, Ashera ventured, “She is of the Zunanma? That race still exists?”

“Not quite,” Yune answered. “They call themselves Branded, the children of laguz and beorc. But they think they've been cursed, so we must fix them. We must show them we would never curse our own children. We're not like that at all!”

“Fix them...” Ashera repeated, casting a probing gaze over Micaiah. Then she closed her eyes and hummed. “I admit, we did not foresee this eventuality. Yet we did not foresee the fracture of our first children, the Zunanma, either. How could we have known?”

“I told them it wasn't a curse,” Yune said sadly, childishly petulant. 

“Yet it pains them, all the same,” Ashera answered. She opened her eyes. “I shall free them of this burden, which was never intended for them.”

She waved her hand and Sephiran – no, Lehran, for the first time in centuries he was Lehran again – felt the change at once. The transformation was quick, and he was himself once more, his true self, soaring, and then it was over but the sense of wholeness remained. It was a bizarre thing, like experiencing some reverse phantom pain: he felt he hadn't truly appreciated its absence until just now, when he understood the feeling of completeness and realized how broken he had been before this moment.

The goddess' edict resounded through the room, and Lehran marveled at the assembled group, melded from all walks of life. The dragon Almedha he had known only briefly in her youth, but during their short reunion he had mourned the loss of the proud, willful woman he remembered, reduced to a single, twisted maternal instinct. In one quick instant, the veil over her heart fell away, and she transformed, strong and proud once more. When she had reverted, her eyes were wide, one gloved hand held over her mouth in surprise, and he thought he could see a light return to her, a new understanding or purpose, much the same as him.

The Branded changed as well, and though some long-built-up part of him was instinctively repulsed, their new forms appeared just as natural as the true laguz. A little girl he had barely noticed before shifted in bright light, became a pale red cat – kitten, rather – and nuzzled up to mage woman beside her. Just as quickly, she shifted back into a laughing child, twin braids bouncing up and down with her body as she coaxed the mage to hold her. The woman lifted her with a laugh of her own and held her close. Lehran thought he could see tears in her eyes, though not ones of sorrow.

A tall, green-haired swordmaster had time for only a brief look of surprise, a slight widening of the eyes and gasp of the mouth, before he transformed into a big, green lion. When he had reverted, a look of pensive concern was on his face, as if he were unsure whether this newfound ability were a blessing or a curse. How odd, for a Branded. Surely this was the passing of a curse! Lehran laughed despite himself – in his untransformed state, the man hadn't struck him as anything more unusual than another Branded, but in the shape of a laguz, his heritage was clear. Just the sight of the lion brought back memories of his old friend, Soan, who had been larger, perhaps, but their resemblance, though many generations removed, was still uncanny.

If his reminiscence hadn't already brought Altina to mind, the transformation of Yune's vessel would have. Caught between mournfulness and elation, he watched the young woman called Micaiah, face set in determination, as she gracefully adopted the form of a black heron, much the same as his own. Tears welling in his eyes, he realized how many years it had been since he'd seen one of his own kind. The stark white beauty of the heron royals was something to behold, certainly, but there was immeasurable comfort in seeing the colors of his own people, his own blood, in person once more. 

He watched, breathless, as the woman returned to her upright self, hands crossed over heart, eyes closed. She tilted her head, as though listening for some tiny sound no other could hear, and when she found it, she grinned widely. She stared at the open dome of the ceiling with a look of pure wonder, which Lehran felt certain was mirrored on his own face. What she had felt, Lehran had as well: the world outside awakening, a choir of thousands in this land alone, risen from their brief slumber with a weightlessness they had never known before, the goddess at work.

He was pulled out of his reverie by a tug on his sleeve. At his side, Sanaki looked up in distress. She had been untouched by any change, though it came as no surprise to him. Only the eldest of his line had ever been afflicted – touched, perhaps, he should say – by the traces of laguz blood within them. He smiled down at the empress and gently squeezed her shoulder, and the action seemed to calm her somewhat. The poor child was just the sort to worry over being left behind. But she had always been pure, and the purity of others couldn't make hers any lesser. She held perhaps less of his lineage than her sister, but more of his heart than any other could.

And his heart was full to bursting in this moment, he realized with great joy, and then immense guilt. He spared a thought for the actions he had taken to reach this place: questioned whether there had been another way, had he not been so blinded with hurt, wondered what form Zelgius might have taken had he-

Lehran stopped, desperate to avoid such thoughts in the presence of a miracle such as this. There would be time later for apologies, for penance. Now, he would witness the glory of his goddess returned, a dream realized.

Yet even as those thoughts surfaced, he felt a darkness creeping upon him, not from his own soul but from without. He cast his eyes about the room in search of its source, and his gaze landed on the taciturn tactician of Ike's army, whose panic at this point was palpable even from across the spacious chamber. He stood hunched over with great difficulty, one hand clenched in the fabric of the robes over his heart, head turned down and breathing heavily. He alone of the Branded and parent laguz remained unchanged, through sheer force of will, it seemed.

Lehran recognized the young man from his first encounter with Ike in Crimea three years ago, a meeting in passing he had barely spared a thought for. It hadn't seemed important, at the time, and Lehran couldn't recall whether he'd noticed the boy's Brand then and dismissed it, or if he'd simply overlooked it entirely. But as he looked upon him now, and with the full return of his heron ability, he felt a wave of immense pity for the pained creature, whose resistance to his true form nonetheless baffled Lehran.

Gently loosing his sleeve from Sanaki's grasp, Lehran strode over to the young man and knelt before him, reaching up to place his own hand over the one held to his heart. The man's gaze snapped to him sharply, and his look was one of anger rather than relief. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it just as quickly, eyes shut tight as he released a hiss of pain and stumbled.

How terribly sad, Lehran thought, and he closed his own eyes. He focused on his own center, reached for the peace within, and tried to guide it through their joined hands. In that moment as well, there was a sense of joining their minds, just a slight touch that made him want to recoil from the darkness he found there, but he let it pass.

_Let go_ , he tried to say. The man shook his head violently and tried to wrench away from his grasp, but Lehran held tight, probed deeper. _Let go_ , he said more forcefully through the bond he had created. Through it now he could hear the surface thoughts of the Branded before him, a cacophony of wordless turmoil, a deep well of fear and rage and so much hatred released in a single, unending shriek of agony that might have overtaken and pushed out a lesser mind, but Lehran's mind was no one's lesser, and he held on. He forced his own calm through that muck, a light pushing away the shadows until the other man ceased his struggle and in the clarity he was left with the presence of a tired, despairing child.

Through their minds now, Lehran found they could communicate.

“Why do you hesitate?” he asked the boy, whose name was Soren, that and much more he was sure of now. “Your curse has been lifted. You've nothing to fear. Assume your true form!”

But he was met only with shaking shoulders and the sense of the boy drawing back once more, with a renewed stubbornness. Still Soren spoke no words, not even in the confines of his mind, or perhaps the chaos within drowned his ability to do so. And in this latest bout of willfulness, even Lehran began to falter, so he tightened his grip and with greater force spoke, both out loud and in his mind, “Still yourself!”

The other man obeyed immediately, clearly through no volition of his own, and just before the sudden lull, his frenzied mind had let out one desperate cry, a clear word at last: _Ike_. Lehran was treated to a final, spiteful glare in the instant before Soren's eyes began to roll back and, in a flash of light, he transformed.

Then, standing before Lehran was a black dragon, smaller and plainer than any of his kin, but doubtless of Dheginsea's line, and the suspicion that had crept up on him as their minds met was confirmed. He laughed weakly, exhausted both by the effort it had taken to get this far and by the trouble that was sure to follow. His gaze flitted to the late Dragon King's daughter, and his heart sank at the unabashed hope shining on her usually mournful face, because he had seen inside this boy's mind and what little love was there might never be hers. And perhaps her younger brother beside her had known some of this, because Kurthnaga held her back by her arm to keep her from rushing forward, though a spot of wonder could be found in his expression as well.

If there were any other reaction, Lehran didn't see it, because as with all the rest, the transformation lasted only a short moment before it ended. Before him again was the shape of a young beorc, who staggered a moment and then fell to his knees silently, face buried in his hands. Arched over, his back rose and fell as he took deep, shaking breaths. Again, Lehran was baffled: how had this reaction come about from such a wonderful thing? Yet he was filled with pity all the same, and he reached out to grip his shoulder, only to have his hand slapped away.

One hand still desperately covering the brand on his forehead, Soren glared at Lehran with such hatred, the latter leaned away purely out of reflex. His red eyes were furious even as he blinked back tears, mouth twisted in a vicious snarl.

“You-!” he began, then stopped with a sharp intake of breath and turned his head back down, like a guilty child bracing for punishment.

Lehran looked up at the sudden shadow to his right and saw the hero who had defeated the goddess himself, wearing a look of worry ill-suited to the stoic man he'd become. With no thought for Lehran, Ike knelt down and imitated his previous action, laying a hand on Soren's shoulder. Though the man leaned away from the touch, he was otherwise still and made no effort to remove himself.

“Soren,” Ike said, in a tone gentler than Lehran had thought him capable. The smaller man seemed to curl in on himself at his voice, and Ike sighed sadly. “Soren, look at me.”

He did, and whatever Soren saw there was enough to break the last of his resistance. Ike held out his arms, and Soren fell into his embrace silently and tiredly. At last the echoes of his distress began to fade from Lehran's mind, soothed away by that freely offered comfort. Lehran watched them a moment, somehow exhausted himself and ill-inclined to move until Ike looked up at him sternly and said, “I've got this.”

It was clearly his invitation – more an order, really – to leave. He wanted to say he didn't understand, that he was deeply curious over this turn of events, and he thought, for some reason, that Ike might be able to offer some insight here. He might have the ability, but he wouldn't do it, Lehran realized from the steel of his eyes. So he only nodded and stood, returning to his place at Sanaki's side.

“The goddesses have left,” the empress said at his return, turning an inquisitive gaze upon him.

“So they have,” Lehran realized. The center of the chamber stood empty now, the bright light of the sun above shining through its high, open dome. Yet he felt within himself that long-slumbering part of his soul, dormant now but still functional, and he knew Her voice would return to him, when the time was right.

“Sephiran-” Sanaki began, then stopped, lips curled into a frown. She looked pensively to Micaiah, whose identity she must have parsed by now, then turned her gaze to the ground and let out a soft sigh. When she looked up, her expression was paradoxically determined and resigned, but this child had always been more than he expected. “What will you do now?” she asked.

“I have committed many crimes against the empire these past years,” Lehran said. “...Against you.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “You've also done much to save it in only this last hour.”

“That honor goes more to others than myself, I think.” 

“Perhaps,” she said wryly, “but I'm hardly going to appoint Ike prime minister of Begnion.”

Without thinking, his gaze had drifted back to the commander of the Greil Mercenaries, still holding his friend as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and Lehran knew already this was a man the bards would sing of for years.

“No,” Lehran answered the empress with a fond smile, “I don't suppose that would go over well, for any involved.” The smile faded from his face and he spoke more seriously, “And yet-”

“I was never the apostle,” Sanaki interrupted him quickly, any mirth absent her expression as well, and Lehran could see clearly the mistake she had made in assuming his protest. Unintentional though it may have been, he felt guilt for it and wished to right things, but she continued, heedless: “For the apostle has been in Daein a number of years now, hasn't she? Micaiah is my older sister, Sephiran, is she not? And that would make her the rightful empress of Begnion.”

Yes, she had reached that feared conclusion before he could dissuade her, but still he might correct that notion. He spoke quickly, mindful of her fear. 

“Lady Sanaki, if hearing the voice of the goddess was the final determiner of who held Begnion's throne, even I would be a candidate,” he said.

At that, finally, she let out a bark of laughter, hands immediately coming up to cover the grin on her face. 

“You'd make a fine empress, Sephiran,” Sanaki laughed. He allowed her that moment of childish delight before he continued.

“I would be a terrible ruler,” he said gravely. “See what I've done to this country, the damage I've caused, all in the name of advancing my own purpose. See the grudge I bore against your people, and how I let it consume me. Though I may hear the goddess, I would be most unfit to rule Begnion.”

“But Micaiah bears none of those sins,” Sanaki countered.

“No, she does not,” Lehran admitted. “But what does she know of your people? And they are your people, Lady Sanaki, not hers and not mine. Even if Lady Micaiah is able to hear the goddess still, can she hear the voice of the people of Begnion? She was raised in Daein, and that is where her heart lies. What does she know of Begnion? What do any of us know of Begnion, that you do not? Who of us holds as much love for this country and her people than you, Lady Sanaki?”

“You've made your point,” Sanaki answered with a poorly concealed smile, a faint blush rising on her face. New resolution steeled itself behind her eyes, and the beginnings of a mischievous smirk formed on her face. “You, of course, will stay by my side, won't you, Sephiran?”

He so desperately wished to keep that smile upon her face, but a lie here would only cause further pain down the road, he knew. 

“I cannot,” he answered sadly. Sanaki's smile lessened, but her gaze remained strong, and he thought she expected that response.

“Where will you go, then?” she asked.

“I'm not yet sure. But Lady Sanaki, should you ever have need of me-”

“Rest assured, I will find you,” she answered with a clever grin. “After all, I've not released you from your duty. Consider this a...a respite, if you will. When you are healthy once more, you will return to my court and serve me again. Understand?”

“Of course, my empress,” he answered with a smile of his own, heart light and full of pride for this fine young woman.

He gazed once more at the sunlight filtered through the dome, felt for that quiet peace within himself. It was weak, still, but he recognized it, and it was more than he had hoped for. A deep hurt had begun to heal, in the world and in himself.

**Author's Note:**

> What do you mean herons can't do Vulcan mind-melds?


End file.
